Saturday, March 26, 2011

Cold Shoulder....


I have lost every trace of trembling delight
I see no grace in your fresh coat of white
Take your venom and your ghastly chill
Fly far beyond the pining hill
Oh, how I long for a dew-laden fling
And a dance on the lawn in the color of spring

I am repelled by your cold blue lips
I shiver at the touch of your finger-tips
There is ice in the chatter of the hurrying brook
The broken reeds scatter into each hollow nook
And I can’t help but long for just one thing
A kinder song in the color of spring

Even the wind is a restless fellow
Pleading, as I for a whisper of yellow
To melt the frost from the window-pane
And draw the buds from the limb again
He moans at my door in a low murmuring
For a warmer shore and the color of spring

Janet~

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